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yourheartonfire · 10 months

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You are an ancient, sentient cursed sword known for corrupting even the most valiant and well-intentioned of heroes. However, you cannot corrupt the most recent hero whose hands you have fallen into - not because of their purity of heart, but because of their incorruptible cynicism.

Prompt courtesy of @writing-prompt-s

The Wielder was silent - too silent - during the planning meeting. So Gleamsteel held its thoughts to itself too, and was not surprised at the council's close when the Wielder walked off not to dinner at the campfire but to an empty grove where they drew Gleamsteel and opened their mind willingly.

I need your help, the Wielder thought, stepping smoothly through the first practice sequence. We can break through the tower defense, but once we do there's no way we can stop the sorcerer's ritual and save the princess. Am I wrong?

Gleamsteel thrummed. It's a one in a million shot... it ventured.

The Wielder didn't laugh out loud, but Gleamsteel could hear the tired scoff down their mystical connection. That's what I thought. Okay. They shifted into the second form. Okay. The princess has to die, and it has to look unequivocally like the sorcerer's fault.

Holy shit, Gleamsteel articulated before it could stop itself.

This time the Wielder did sigh out loud. It's not personal. I feel bad for her. I'd save her if we could. But she's just one person, and if that ritual goes off everyone in seven leagues dies. They cut downwards with extra venom. That's not a balanced risk, not for someone just because they have sentimental, maybe symbolic value to the king.

Hm. Gleamsteel pushed its tendrils towards that disgust. Such a selfish order, to put countless other sons and daughters at risk to save his own -

Knock it off. The Wielder straightened out of their form, swishing Gleamsteel's tip down into the dry dust. I told you I don't want to be king and I don't want to be a king maker. Stop with the creepy whispers or it's right into the bin with you when this is down.

Then what do you want?, Gleamsteel snapped. You don't want fame -

Crowd loves to see yesterday's hero fall, the Wielder said, spinning the sword in their hand and slicing through a theoretical foe.

You don't want power -

Ugh. What would I do with it? Make things worse?

You want wealth? Riches?

The Wielder ended the sequence not with a flourish, but with a perfectly controlled thrust. You know my terms. I want my due, and I want to walk away alive. You help me and I'll help you get into the hands of someone more, ah, amenable. Isn't that what you want?

Gleamsteel simmered with rage. How are you... Why won't you let me help you? You must want something!

Momma always said look out for them insisting on giving you something for free. The Wielder stuck Gleamsteel into the soft grass under an oak tree, picked up their flask of water and drank deeply. 'Cause that only means they're hiding the cost until its too late.

If Gleamsteel had lungs and teeth it would've snarled.

Stay focused here. The Wielder crouched beside the blade. Tower. Defense. Princess. Ritual.

"Chosen One?" Came an uncertain voice. "You all right?"

The Wielder stood swiftly, seized their sword and sheathed it, giving a reassuring nod to their companion. "Clearing my head. Big day tomorrow, eh?"

"Indeed," the companion said, clearly relieved to be in the Wielder's presence. But Gleamsteel felt their eyes cut to the hilt, felt the threads of doubt and the hunger to be chosen themselves...

That one, Gleamsteel whispered to the Wielder. I'll get you through tomorrow and you'll give me to this one as my next Wielder.

Done, the Wielder said immediately and clapped their friend on the shoulder to go with them to dinner.

#my fiction #heroxvillain #fantasy #fantasci #filled prompt #writing prompt s #evil hero #magic sword

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maybeitsalivescribbles · 8 months

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I think that we, as a community, should appreciate and respect @writing-prompt-s drive to fuck Zeus' shit up more.

#writing prompt s #a noble cause #tbh I have zero sympathy for Hera she's a genocidal sadistic asshole too (most of the time)#but she is stuck in the worst relationship #writeblr let's wreck this fucker together #writing prompts #writeblr #greek mythology #greek gods

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sapphire-dicson-official · 2 months

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Tumblr I appreciate the complement but I dare not say I stand where these legends do

#everythingfox #foxes in love #writing prompt s #biggest gaudiest patronuses #I am but a tiny mortal amongst gods and i don't know how I got here

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oatmealdoom · 3 months

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I’ve been a ghostly lurker on this webbed site for many, many years. This is my first ever original post, because I’m desperate.

There was a post from some indeterminate time in the past, which collected the most iconic pieces of original writing from tumblr. It was called tumblr lore, or myths or something. Most of the work was short stories, i think, some were illustrated comics though. Please help me find this essential archive! Begging all six of my followers.

#writers on tumblr #tumblr lore #writing prompt s

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eibeeseedee · 8 months

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Writing prompt!:

You are from the royal family, tasked to summon and guide a hero into saving your kingdom, and after years of research and trial and error, you were able to summon a hero from another world.

When the Hero awoke, you begin your welcome speech, they seem to repeat your speech word for word, and when you were finished, they suddenly run backwards, and phase through the castle walls.

#writing prompt s #writing prompts #writing #dialogue prompt #writing prompt #write it!

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themaidenofwords · 11 months

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The Herocab

Original prompt:

You are a cabdriver. But you don’t drive any cab, you drive The Herocab, a cab that any superhero can call if they need to be somewhere urgently. Today you were called, only to find the hero a bloody mess on the ground and a villain, the hero’s phone in hand, standing over them.

credit: writing-prompt-s

***

Titus Adams was very good at his job.

Granted, it wasn’t a normal job. He couldn’t exactly claim the title of a normal cabbie or even an Uber driver, but his clientele wasn’t usually in a position to use a normal cab. After all, that was what the Herocab was for.

Titus was used to the unusual.

Costumed heroes of all ages and sizes would spill into his car with blood seeping through a clenched hand or naked terror in their eyes as they hoped to be not too late. Titus never turned any of them away. He would receive a terse location, open a portal, and drive out a moment later in front of a hospital, some villain’s lair, or the occasional residential home that he knew better than to ever mention.

He never asked for payment, but sometimes– when their wounds were stitched closed or their eyes were brighter with relief– a hero would track him down and try to force a gift upon him. Sometimes he took the gifts, but he never took money from the kids.

The kids were the worst part of his job– and there were so many of them. Titus never refused anyone, but he hated having the kids in his car. Hated how these teenagers would hide behind a mask and try to hide how their voice cracked. He fought a constant battle with himself to not kidnap these children and get them into actual safe homes. He knew better than to try and talk the kids out of their work either. They wouldn’t listen– if anything it would just drive the kids away from calling him if they were worried about a lecture. So, Titus kept quiet. He didn’t try to tell them that the world was cruel and too harsh a place for kids their age. They faced enough demons to know that already. The only thing he made sure they knew was that they could call him for help whenever they needed. He did his best to hold to his promise and desperately hoped it was enough. Usually, it was. Sometimes, it wasn’t.

Sometimes, the hero wasn’t able to call in time. Sometimes, the mere seconds it took for Titus to arrive was still too late. Those were the days when he had to lock the shattered part of his soul away and drive off to the next call. He would attend the funeral if possible, cry about it when he was alone in bed, but he couldn’t let him stop him from his job. After all, that’s why he did this in the first place.

So, when he received a call at nearly one in the morning by the Central American clock, he didn’t hesitate. It was nothing more than a choked off cry for help before the line went dead. No location given. Thankfully, he could track the call regardless.

Titus recognized the number. It was one of the newer kids to the heroing game. A skinny twerp that couldn’t be older than fifteen and was going by the dramatic name of “Rising Moon”. The kid did most of his work in a city around the California area. He was worryingly alone. There were no other heroes nearby, and the kid didn’t seem to have a mentor like some of the other young heroes– and if that didn’t put more gray hairs on Titus’s head…. He’d already picked up the kid twice in the past six months for an emergency trip to the hospital. The second time, he had barely managed to keep his tongue and not yell at the kid until he convinced him to stop going out in a costume and trying to get killed. He had restrained himself, but he didn’t think he would be able to this time.

Titus was in his cab mere moments after the call came through. He hadn’t yet gone to bed, so all it took was shoving on some tennis shoes– forgoing socks– before he was ready to go. It took a few seconds longer to trace the call, but the moment that he got a definitive location, Titus shut his eyes and focused on the spot he needed to travel to. A swirling hole of star speckled blackness opened in front of the hood of his cab. He shifted the car into drive and rolled into the void with a squeal of tires.

Hundreds of miles passed in the time it takes to breathe, and Titus’s cab was spat out on a dark, rain soaked street. His headlights cut through the heavy rain that was falling and caught on two human figures in the back of a narrow alley. It was hard to see past the water pounding against his windshield, but he recognized Rising Moon crumpled on the ground and one of the more minor– globally speaking– villains, named Tornado or something, standing with the kid’s phone clutched in a gloved hand.

Titus’s jaw was clenched hard enough to break, but he drove forwards until the hood of the car was mere feet away from the shocked villain and the going-into-shock hero.

Maybe-Tornado unfroze and threw out a warning before Titus could move any closer. “Stay out of this, old man,” she shouted over the rain. “This is between me and Moon. Drive away while you still can.”

Titus didn’t like to get involved. He showed up where needed and took the heroes where they needed to go. That was it. But, the kid didn’t have anyone to help. Didn’t have a partner or a mentor to drag him into the cab’s backseat and put pressure on his wounds. And Titus never turned anyone away and never left before finishing his job. Hell if he was going to start now.

He opened the car door, leaving the engine running, and stepped into the rain.

“I’m taking the kid with me.”

Maybe-Tornado laughed in his face, her cruel smile the only visible part of her face beyond her black mask. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m Whirlwind, you idiot.”

Ah. So not Tornado.

“You think you can get past me?”

Titus could feel his gray hair being plastered to his head by the deluge. He had to blink a stream of water out of his eye as lightning flashed across the sky above. His T-Shirt was already sticking to his back.

“I don’t care who you are.” The rumble of thunder from the lightning finally reached them. “I’m here for the kid.”

Whirlwind scoffed and tossed the broken phone from her hand. She raised her palms and twin cyclones formed and started to spin the falling rain into a confused mess.

Titus didn’t flinch. He didn’t try to dodge the gust of wind that Whirlwind sent his way. One moment he was standing tall beside his cab, and the next, the gust of wind and rain rattled through empty space.

And then, he was behind Whirlwind with an arm around her throat.

“How did—” Whirlwind’s voice cut off as the arm around her throat tightened. She choked and fruitlessly gasped for air for a moment before forming miniature cyclones around her hands and striking back at Titus with what was effectively drill hands. However, when she reached behind her back, the arm and the man attached to it were already gone.

Whirlwind spun around wildly, raising a gust over her head to block the rain from her eyes. “Where are you, old man?”

“Everywhere.” Titus’s voice came from all sides of the alley. “Nowhere.” Whirlwind whirled around again, certain that the voice was behind her, and felt a faint tap on her shoulder.

She turned to see not a helpless old man, but an old legend.

“Void,” she breathed.

Titus was no longer wet. The rain shied away from him like a girl on the first date. His simple T-Shirt and jeans had been coated with a shimmering, inky blackness that was hard to look at– like being blinded during a full eclipse. His gray hair had turned full black and it waved, weightless, above his head.

“That’s not who I am anymore,” Titus said in a voice both as thunderous as an avalanche and still as a fading lullaby. “But I think you know what I can do.”

Whirlwind nodded shakily and backed away a step, letting her control of the air fade away. She had grown up to television broadcasts of a shadow clad hero. A man that could be everywhere and nowhere as he pleased. One of the grand titans of the planet, that is until something… happened. No one knew what exactly occurred, but Void had simply snapped. Instead of locking up criminals, he was killing on sight, leaving nothing but blackened corpses in his wake.

The other heroes had eventually gathered to stop him. Every news station on the planet had broadcasted the resulting battle. It had been messy. Void had been winning. And then? He simply stopped fighting and disappeared. No one had seen him again.

Well, until now.

“Are you going to kill me?” Whirlwind asked, her voice trembling.

Titus shook his head and let most of the darkness puddle like oil from his clothing. “I’m here for the kid.” He suddenly met Whirlwind’s eyes and the darkness in his pupils seemed large enough to eat her alive. “Tell anyone about this though and I will find you again. You can guess what will happen then.”

Whirlwind choked and nodded desperately, backing up until her back hit the alley wall in an attempt to get away from Titus’s dark– oh so dark– gaze.

Titus huffed out a breath and turned his attention to Rising Moon. The kid was still breathing, thank goodness, but he was gonna need a hospital desperately. Titus walked over and gathered the kid in his arms, feeling his back creak warningly.

He did his best not to think about how he used to carry his own kid like this. How he had carried his son away that final time to a hero’s funeral. Another kid lost to the stupid, pointless battles. He could only hope that by saving others like his own child, he could find a little light to brighten his blackened soul again. Maybe. One day.

Titus opened the door to the backseat of the cab and laid Rising Moon down with painful gentleness. He indulged in a small brush of the wet hair from the kid’s face before circling the car and getting in the front seat. He cast one last look at the still trembling Whirlwind and let the darkness in his eyes flare in a final warning before he opened a portal and disappeared.

Yeah, Titus Adams was good at his job. He worked in the heroes’ shadows. He no longer tried to pretend that he could be part of the light again. Maybe he was irredeemable, but sometimes it took a little darkness to strengthen the light. If he had to be the darkness, well, then let the shadows reign.

#writing prompts #writing #creative writing #writing ideas #Short story #herocab #Superheroes #writing stuff #i liked this prompt too much #writing prompt s

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warcats-cat · 10 months

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🙃🙃🙃 someone please please help me find a link to an original fic that I think is originally from writing-prompt-s

It was about humans joining intergalactic war after some planets get destroyed and the rest of the galaxy writes humanity off as bad fighters and cowards because they're always seen leaving the battlefields or only sending small ships with few fighters aboard and the narrator eventually starts to wonder if the humans aren't doing something after all because POWs they take start ranting about ghost ships and attacks and everything and finally the narrator like wins an award or something and they take some time to visit earth and they find that the humans have built a memorial to the original planets that were destroyed and are fighting in honor of those who were lost and it's a really touching ending.

I can't find it in *any* of my tags no matter what search terms I use and it's driving me *crazy* please if anyone knows what I'm talking about please help me.

@writing-prompt-s I'm sorry to tag you but if you remember this?? Please.

#warcats rambles #help warcats #please #find a post #find a fic #it's been three days #writing prompt s #tumblr fiction

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julie-z-vesnice · 1 year

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Mindfuck writing prompt

I have this writing prompt in mind, figured I should try going on here.

TW – suicide

[Villian] has had suicidal thoughts or has even attempted to take their life earlier in their life. But good for them – they've overcome these thoughts and urges and are now doing better.

Now, [Villian] finds that [Hero] wants to take their life, or even better, [Villian] catches [Hero] in a suicide attempt.

[Villian] acts all protective of [Hero], speaking softly, convincing them to stop, and come down from the roof, put down the knife,...

Thing is, [Hero] doesn't actually want to remove themselves from this world, but is solely pretending.

Now, HEAR ME OUT...!! This is [Hero]'s plan to escape [Villian] or otherwise dodge death and/or being hurt in, well, pretending to be dead.

Imagine how fucked [Villian] would be to see [Hero] alive again, after they've just jumped from a 12 story building? The sheer shock of seeing [Hero] commit un-aliving and then seeing them alive, walking, breathing, just fine, for [Villian].

What would this do to [Villian] and [Hero]? [Hero]'s realization that they've hurt [Villian] severely, [Villian]'s face has gone pale, as they literally just saw a ghost.

Do what you want with this product of my busy mind :)

#writing #writing prompt s #sewer slide #mindfuck #uh oh #I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD #oddly specific but who cares

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stephenopolos · 2 years

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The Unending Struggle of the Klingon System Admin

Point of view: You're the Klingon IT admin on a warship.

"By the spirit of Kahless how many times do I have to tell you fools, your passwords must be secure, they should not be the name of your favorite targ from your childhood nor should they be the date you became a warrior and made your first kill!" "And you Captain, give another random warrior with strong arm and an opera voice the envy of Q'onoS access to our systems on their word of honor that their house needs our records without verifying they actually belong to that house again, and I will show the crew what degenerate human filth you look up in the privacy of your cabin!"

-----

Every other race in the quadrant is in awe, because when klingons get a good IT Security chief.

"Tell me again about that time you shoved your captain's head into a bulkhead for considering breaching computer security with an alien probe!"

The newbie refills the tankard of bloodwine in front of the battle-scarred Klingon system admin, dreaming about how many disasters his federation ship could've avoided if he'd just be allowed to do the same.

"To this very day, there is an impression in the wall in the shape of the old captain's head." The Klingon reminisces.

------

Other allied factions dread the day they learn that the ships new Sys Admin was trained by the Klingons.

"Mr. Riker, make sure the crew know that I expect all regulations to be observed," Picard said, "We have Mr Worf's cousin coming on board to help with the upgrade of the Enterprise's Operating System." "You mean?" "Yes, a Klingon System Admin"

#star trek #klingon IT specialist #klingon comptuer security #writing prompt s #writing prompt #klingons #it security #klingon system admin #system admin

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yourheartonfire · 2 years

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The minister pointed his finger at the queen. “The poison in your wine could only have come from her, your majesty! The queen is trying to kill you!” “No,” said the king. “If my wife wished to kill me she would look me in the eye and push a dagger into my chest.”

Prompt courtesy of @writing-prompt-s , as found here

"Stop joking around when you're dying!" I snarled at my idiot husband, now turning a delicate purple. The minister was backing away, so I leapt the table, ripping my dagger loose straight through the hole in my skirts.

He shrieked and tried to run, but courtly life had not been kind to his dexterity or his strength. It was child's play to take him to the ground, my blade to his throat. "What did you give him? Where is the antidote?"

The minister's eyes were wide and he was blubbering. It was an embarrassing display from a senior courtier - you'd think the man had never been in a knife fight before. "I don't - Madame, I - what are you implying?"

"You see, it wasn't me so that means it must have been you," I said sweetly to the minister. "Talk or I flay you alive from the balls up."

It was too theatrical a threat. I could see the pompous mask settle again. "Now see here-" he started.

I stabbed him. He screamed.

"Darling please," wheezed my moron husband, who should have been sitting down and conserving his breath. "We need... answer..."

"Working on it," I sang back, grinding my dagger against the minister's shoulder joint. He screamed again and a spurt of blood landed on my bodice. One of the summoned guards who'd been hovering turned away, his face green. Honestly, I was going to have to fire everyone next week. "I realize these aren't your balls. This is the warning stab to make my point that I am quite serious." I pulled my stiletto from my hair, considered the thin blade critically. "Not the best weapon for the job, but I'll make do. Might have to stab your balls a bit instead of flaying."

I reached down for his pants.

"Wait!" the minister screamed. "It's golden rest vine. Golden rest vine!"

There were gasps through the court. At least a couple were clearly fake and I cursed my inability to look in all directions at once.

"Never heard of it." I slit the fabric open. "I hope for your balls' sake there's an antidote."

"I know! I know that one!" We all turned to look at the little court doctor, hitherto best noted for their ability to fall asleep on two glasses of wine. They blushed but kept their hand up like they were in school. "Standard milkweed powder and brandy."

"Then go get it," I hissed and the only member of the court staff who was still going to have their job next week bobbled off at full speed. I turned back to the minister cowering at my feet. "You're a coward and a traitor," I declared. And incompetent, I added but only mentally as I couldn't very well critique an enemy assassin for that quality. "Guards, take him away to stand trial at the king's pleasure."

Now that I'd done all their job for them, the guards rushed in a great clank of armor to drag the stupid man away. That handled, I turned back to the stupid man I'd married.

The doctor was already back, trying to feed my husband a cup with their hands shaking worse than his. "Great... great work, my love," he wheezed.

"No. Beloved. Rest," I said and grabbed him by the nose. His jaw flapped open and the doctor poured the draught down his gullet. I crushed his head to my breast in a tender embrace before he could spit it out.

"How dare you try to die on me?" I hissed in his ear. "I told you your death is mine when I'm done with you!"

My husband wriggled his head free to look up at me, his color already returning. "Yes, dear," he whispered back with his stupid, inane smile entirely inappropriate to a man nearly killed by a greedy minister and incompetent staff. He touched my face gently. His fingers came away wet. "Don't cry, love. I'll be fine."

"I am not crying!" I protested, but my husband forestalled further argument on the topic by turning his head and emptying the contents of his stomach across my skirts. In the ensuing clean up of yet another mess, he slipped into gentle rest before I could conclusively prove him wrong.

Another thing I'd have to get revenge for. Another reason - no, another obligation to keep the idiot alive, no matter how exhausting.

It's a hard thing, proper revenge, but absolutely worth doing right. I'd get him. Someday.

#my fiction #short shorts #royalty #lol #filled prompt #writing prompt s #queen x king #cinnamon roll x cynic #i dont even know #sometimes you see a prompt #and the response just pops straight into your head #100

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boldaciousbeing-blog · 1 year

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Writing Prompt 509

You are professional Matchbreaker.

The opposite of a matchmaker, you’re hired by concerned friends, disapproving parents, jealous exes, desperate nerds, and everyone in between to break up an existing relationship from the shadows.

Story inspired by @writing-prompt-s

Everyone keeps saying to you, "You need to find someone to love" or "You'll change your mind once you're in a steady relationship", blah blah blah. I simply roll my eyes at all of these stupid comments as I keep wondering who the hell tricked these poor human beings into believing that all you need is love and all will be right with the world. Utter bullshit I tell you.

I mean first of all, your happiness is your own responsibility. Not someone else's. You know what makes you happy, in fact the true love of your life, is you. Not some guy or girl you may end up marrying and having kids with, then grow old and die together. If you're lucky, the word divorce may never even come up. Unless I intervene of course.

My name is Loretta and I specialize in breaking hearts and destroying relationships. That's right I'm a 'Matchbreaker' and I love my profession. What I love the most about it is that no one knows I exist and I only appear to you when you desperately need me. You won't find me on Google, not on Facebook, not even on the Yellow Pages. I work in the shadows, those who seek me know where to find me. And I don't come cheap.

I've broken up long term relationships, stopped weddings from happening and if the price is right, I break up marriages. I know I sound like a cold hearted human being but I'm fairly helping everyone involved happy. The one who needs my services and saving the victims from making big mistakes though some have landed up depressed and heartbroken, with no will to live. 'Oh boo hoo, I'll never find love again,' they say. How pathetic can one be?

I do however tell my clients to be careful of what they wish for. Another man's trash may not necessarily be another's treasure. By requesting my services you sacrifice a piece of your happiness. Opening up a place for guilt to haunt you for all eternity. Just as it has always been, love comes at a price. It's amazing how far one would go to get it or to get whoever they want, regardless of the consequences.

Like I say to all my clients, "You have been warned".

The end.

#writing prompt s #writing prompt #short story

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